


Black Butterfly

by TheLadyKing



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, M/M, just an idea i had, with a little help from a friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-03-21 08:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13737045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyKing/pseuds/TheLadyKing
Summary: "Black Butterfly, sail across the watersTell your sons and daughters what the struggle brings " - Black Butterfly by Deniece Williams





	1. Morning Light

**Author's Note:**

> Listen this series was originally inspired by the song "Someday We'll Be Free" by Donny Hathaway so before it's over expect a reference or two but also listen to it and get your fucking life but the title is after "Black Butterfly" by Deniece Williams so give that a listen too cause it'll kill you like it always does me.
> 
> This is an AU but it will contain spoilers if you haven't already watched the movie I suggest you do that first so you can understand why this is necessary. ALSO, this story will not be told in a linear format! You've been warned and enjoy.

1\. Morning Light

 

 

It’s not like he’s never been by himself before. But the break up is recent and still raw so seeing Riley, standing across the room and looking like they never meant anything to one another… well it’s a lot, okay? So, excuse him if he’s getting a bit sloshed, standing on the opposite side of the hall by himself. And it’s a beautiful hall, by the way. High ceilings and chandeliers that look as expensive as the food tastes. He’s been to other events, military events like this, but he can’t remember them ever being this nice aesthetically.

Against the walls, like where he is, there are tables with pretty blue table clothes, stacked with row after row of food from all over. It’s like a trip around the world every time he goes to fill his plate up. And it helps, at least that way he’s doing something with his hands and eyes instead of charging straight through the party and asking, _demanding_ , the apology he deserves from Riley.

“You gonna stand here all night, cuz?” a voice asks from just beside him. Sam looks up from his plate and looks right at the man, _the jerk_ , who’d knocked him from his musings.

Sam rolls his eyes, knowing without needing confirmation that the man isn’t air force. Attractive, with a crew cut and sharp brown eyes and a smile that could slay a dragon, but not air force and definitely not worth his time.

“My bad, man,” he mutters quickly, stepping away from the table he’d been blocking and leaning against the wall besides it instead. His eyes lift up, on their own he swears, and nearly jump out his head when he sees Riley pull the woman with him closer. His hand is on the small of her back and he’s whispering something that makes her blush and giggle into her ear.

Sam swallows the lump in his throat and looks back down at his plate. He needs another drink.

“That your old man?” the man from before asks, pinching a bunch of noodles between his index and thumb, slurping them off like this expensive ass party couldn’t be bothered to provide utensils.

“There are forks,” Sam just says, already annoyed at having been found out. He’s not mingling like he usually would or cracking wise like just about everyone knows him for. He can’t even manage a smile and it’s all that… that bastard’s fault. And now, here’s Mr. Noodle-fingers, asking him questions like they’re friends or at least acquaintances that Sam owes any explanation to.

“Oh, nah. I like being able to taste my food,” the man says, winking as Sam rolls his eyes once again.

“Are you trying to flirt with me?” he asks, bluntly.

The other man smiles and raises a brow before shaking his head, laughing suddenly like Sam has just told the best joke he’s ever heard. Sam frowns and begins to walk away. He’s not in the mood for this, for this party or this man or anything. He should have just stayed in his hotel room, ordering the most expensive things off Riley’s credit card. It’s what he deserves.

“Hey, hey. Don’t get your wings in a bunch, flyboy. I wasn’t flirting but I’m willing to try if you give me a chance,” the man says stepping in front of Sam and smiling like the cat that got the canary when Sam stops and gives out a huff.

“I’m not really… it’s not a good night for me,” Sam says, feeling his eyes prickle as he thinks about how just yesterday he was engaged and today… today he’s alone in a room full of people he doesn’t know and those he _thought_ he did.

It hurts. He’d come hoping Riley would skip out and he’d be able to have one night where he didn’t cry his heart out like he has been for the past few months, but here he is, ready to break apart in front of this stranger.

The man frowns and places his plate on the nearest table before taking Sam’s hand. “Come on, I know of a real party and you look like you could use that sort of thing right now.”

Sam lets the man lead him outside the event hall and then out the building, clutching hard at his hand like he’ll just slip into the sky if he lets go. Erik flags down a cap, whistling and gesturing wildly with an arm as he gives Sam’s hand a quick squeeze.

Just being outside, away from Riley and whoever his date was already has him feeling better, though part of him wishes he’d grabbed a plate or two to go for later.

As a cap finally stops for them, and they’re slipping inside, Sam finally lets out a breath. The man turns to him and smiles, pulling the door shut behind him. “What you thinking, flyboy?” he asks, hand under his chin.

Sam shrugs and takes a fleeting look back at the building before looking back at him. “I wish I’d got a plate before we left,” he teases. The man barks out a laugh before nodding.

“Same here, cuz. Them noodles was hitting,” he says, that sharp smile back in place. Sam looks him over and smiles. So maybe not air force but definitely worth the time.

“How do I stack up against your old old man?” he asks, leaning back comfortably under Sam’s intense gaze.

Sam shifts. “You’re definitely better looking.”

“I bet I am.”

“But you’re not air force which probably means you’re… in the army? No, you’re a marine.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “What about me makes you think that? I could be a flyboy like you.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, you’re definitely not one for the chair force.”

The man smiles and rolls his eyes. “Navy.”

“Seals? You into some black op shit?” Sam teases. The man’s smile stiffens before he shrugs once more, adjusting his stark red tie. Sam watches him, taking in more than his face now. The suit he wears is midnight blue and the tie sticks out sort of like a brilliantly placed sore thumb. The conflicting colors play off one another better than they have any right to if he’s being honest.

“You into some black op shit?” the man asks, his own eyes roving over Sam’s own steel gray suit. Sam shifts and quirks a slight smile.

“I’m _chair force_ remember? But I like it. I do important work. You?” The man frowns before taking Sam’s hand once more.

“We’re almost there.”

 

Sam’s drunker than he’s been since he was a fresh-faced high school junior having his first taste of jungle juice. And it’s… it’s nice. Better than that stuffy party, better than room service by himself too. Better than mourning a relationship that he’d had to keep under lock and key anyway. Better than being afraid every fucking day that Riley would…

“Having a good time?” the man asks when Sam steps off the makeshift dance floor. He smiles saucily at him and nods, feeling lighter. He doesn’t want to think about Riley. Up until a moment ago, he hadn’t for hours and he likes that. He likes how this man makes him feel.

“I didn’t get your name,” Sam slurs, swaying on his feet but feeling bold. Bolder than he had in a long time and that’s good too. It feels so _fucking good._

The man pulls him to his side and gives him another one of those sharp smiles. “Erik. Erik Stevens,” his whispers into Sam’s ear, his warm breath sending a shiver through him.

“I’m Sam. Wilson. Sam Wilson,” he slurs and blushes as Erik presses a quick kiss to his forehead. It’s tender but it makes him flush hot from his ear tips down to his toes. This is nice too. Unexpected but very nice.

“How long you in town, Sam Wilson?”

Sam sighs and thinks of the week-long vacation time he’d taken off with hopes that they could take time out to work on them. And now there is no them and he’s stuck in California for a whole week. He huffs, annoyed as he remembers it all. “I’m here all week.”

“Good, then I’ll show you around, flyboy.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

Erik laughs and nods his head, his arm still thrown around Sam’s waist. “I sure am, flyboy. That alright?”

Sam laughs and nods, still feeling light from the drinking and the dancing he’s done. “More than alright.”

 


	2. This Is A Warning, I Won't Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is this love Oh, is this love?" -Flames by Tedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :^)

1\. This Is A Warning, I Won't Change

 

Sam shakes, gripping tight at the suit he’d put on. Thinking… well, he doesn’t even know what he was thinking when he put it on. He doesn’t even know what he’s thinking now. Everything in him… everything around him feels like a burst hot air balloon, zipping through the air like they do in the cartoons. Like the ones he used to watch when he was younger. Or even the ones he’s seen with his niece Jody. That _they’d_ both seen with Jody.

“Fuck,” he whispers, sitting heavily down on the huge bed in the room he’d been shoved into upon their return from the falls. The fucking waterfalls where he’d witnessed… where he’d seen the love of his life kill his own cousin.

How do you process that shit?

Sam swallows the lump in his throat and looks around for something, anything to distract himself. The room is bigger than his, their, home. The lights above are soft but still bright enough that he can make out every nook and cranny of it. He supposes there's nowhere in Wakanda he could hide now. Nowhere he could go to be away from this. That they could go together. But that's... that's fine. He's never been much for hiding anyway.

And, no matter what, he’s never been afraid of Erik. Maybe for him, many times for him. But then again, he’s never seen someone murder their own cousin in ritual combat.

He’s never seen Erik _kill_ before, ever.

He’s heard the stories, knows what they whisper about him but he… His Erik is not that Erik. At least that’s what he’s always told himself. But maybe that was wrong. Maybe his Erik is the fake.

The walls shift colors, he notices. At ever mood switch of his, and there are many, they change. Color, texture, pattern. Sam grips at his thighs and watches them as his mind races. Blue with polka dots, green shaggy fur, flat orange. And colors he can’t even describe, in patterns he’s never seen before.

And he thinks, maybe he's the one here that doesn't make any sense.

 

 

Erik rolls his eyes and sighs, watching Sam pace back and forth through the room they’d set him up in. ‘Fit for a King,’ W’Kabi had muttered. And it is, with its high vaulted ceilings and wallpaper that shifts color and shit every other second. Behind the bed, which is huge and probably much too soft to be comfortable, is a wall of windows. He can see all of the capital and he wonders if it was any different than how it had been when his father was still alive.

The towers seem to reach impossibly high and yet nothing obscures the passage of the sun from his view as evening fell. Wispy shadows of purple and blues make him growl, biting back vomit as he thinks back to his little excursion into the spirit world.

Seeing N’Jobu and knowing he’d never be able to get beyond those fucking walls. His home in the last moments becoming his prison forever.

Erik grits his teeth and turns his gaze back to Sam, still pacing and muttering to himself.

“So, we gon do this all night or what?” he asks, grinning past freshly opened wounds. Things he’d thought himself somewhat at peace with broiling back up just under his skin.

Sam stops and turns to him, his eyes sparkling with fury as he tries to still himself, though his hands are shaking and he’s huffing and puffing like he’s just run a few miles. Erik tries to smile, to ignore the aching in his chest, but he knows it falls flat by the way Sam’s shoulders drop and his face shifts instantaneously from anger to grief to understanding. He can nearly see him put on his counselor’s hat and it makes him chuckle listlessly.

“No, don’t even start with me on that shit, Sam,” he says quickly before the other man can even catch his breath. Before he can dig into him and reach the pain radiating through his chest.

“Erik… I-what? What the fuck is happening right now?” Sam asks, instead of reaching out like he wants to. Holding him like he wants to.

“I’m doing what we always talked about, baby. I’m about to fix it all.”

“Fix it? _Fix it?_ Can you fix throwing your cousin off a fucking waterfall in front of his family? Your family?” Sam asks, crossing his arms like he always does when he’s mad at him. Erik smiles, at least this is the same. At least this is normal.

“I let my anger get the best of me. But I had to let them know, you know? That I wasn’t about to be tried,” Erik explains, moving forward in his seat now, his elbows pressed into his thighs. The slight discomfort helping keep him from vibrating right out of his skin.

“Erik… this, this isn’t anything we’ve ever talked about. This isn’t right.”

“Who says? Who gets to choose what’s right and wrong? I’m about to do what we talked about, change all this shit, and you acting like a little strong-arming is gonna taint all that,” Erik grumbles.

“It’s not fair, Erik. None of this is fair and you know it.”

Erik shoots to his feet, his face twisting in anger. “Fair? Nothing for us has ever been fair, you know that. They abandoned me and left my father trapped away from his ancestors, Sam. If he’d had his way what happened to Gideon would have never happened, and that’s a fucking fact.”

Sam steps back.

“Don’t do that. Don’t you bring Gideon into this. You want them to be punished for your father but what does he want, Erik? I can’t imagine he’d want any of this!” Sam yells, his chest tight.

“That’s my family, Sam. Gideon, Sarah, my dad, Darlene, Jody, You! That’s my family. Not these royals or whoever. So, I'm always gon want what’s best for mine. Even if they don’t always agree with me!" Erik screams, stalking closer as he goes. Sam backs up, balling his fists against his chest as if that will protect from the wall of anger radiating off Erik.

“Erik… I want to topple the world order too but not like this. Never like this.”

“Yeah? Then how, Sam. We’ve read the same fucking books and you know this is gonna take blood. A lot of it.”

“Yeah and I also know a revolutionary does not a revolution make, nigga. It’s the people first or it’s nothing!”

Erik grins sharply. “And I’m giving the tools to the people, baby.”

“You give the tools and the knowledge to the people. And then you allow them the space to determine their own futures. You’re not…,” Sam sighs, deflating suddenly,” punishing Wakanda when there are real enemies out there, it isn’t fair, and it isn’t the way to do this. It will never be the way to do this.”

Erik sighs and makes his way to Sam, stopping for a moment in front of him and reaching a hand up to stroke at his cleanly shaven cheek. “All I need to know is if you’re with me, Sam? I’m not changing my mind.”

Sam lets out a shuttering breath and leans into Erik’s touch. “I-I said forever and right now it feels like I’m the only one who meant it,” he whispers, his voice trembling.

Erik presses a quick kiss to his lips and then against the hot tears that have begun to trail down his cheeks. He licks the salty water away and sighs. “Let me make it up to you?” he asks, pressing an insistent kiss on Sam’s bare neck. Sam shakes in his arms but reaches a hand out to tangle in his locs.

“You’ll braid them up for me later?” Erik asks between flicks of his tongue. Sam moans and nods quietly.

“Later,” he promises.

 

 

Erik smiles down at Sam’s curled up form before standing up and stretching. Outside the sun has set and the sky is full of stars. He presses a hand against the window and sighs as he thinks about the day. He looks over at Sam once more and wipes away a stray tear before turning away and heading to continue planning with W’Kabi.

Forever is a long time, he thinks as he strokes the band on his ring finger. And it's time that his people don’t have.

As the door closes behind Erik, Sam sits up. He looks around the room and then to his clothes, piled up on the floor before making his decision. He’ll always want the best for those he loves. Even if that means he has to stand against them.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to leave reviews please? And follow me @killmongershusband on tumblr.hlp.pls
> 
> Obviously, this was inspired by the song Flames by Tedy which is FUEGO and you need to listen to it rn immediately!


	3. You Know You Had Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So reach into your chain of thoughts  
> Try to find something new  
> Because what worked for you so well before  
> For me it just won't do"- Love Me In A Special Way by DeBarge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something light.

3\. You Know You Had Me

 

 

Erik sighs and shifts on his feet, nervous as he wrings his hands. Behind him tourists swarm together, trying to get into the New York Museum of Natural History like they don’t know what a line is. He grits his teeth and looks back down at his watch, feeling queasy as he waits for his date.

This shouldn’t be as hard as it is. Shouldn’t be nearly as scary, he’s spent a whole week with Sam before, but this is… this is their first _official_ date and his stomach feels like it’s dropped down to his toes he’s so sick with nervous energy.

It’s unusual for him, to say the least. He’s never been that guy, the one who arrives an hour early and walks around like they’re waiting to head to a funeral. He’s just… he’s so fucking jittery it’s killing him. He doesn’t like feeling like this. And more importantly, he’d thought he’d handled this part of himself.

Burned it out.

“You been waiting long, Mr. Navy Seal?” Sam asks as he walks up, a small child hugging his leg from behind, stilting his motion.

Erik raises a brow. “And who’s this?”

The child looks at him from behind Sam’s leg before shifting to hide again. Sam chuckles and reaches a hand back to pat them on the head gently.

“My niece, Jody. My sister was having some issues this morning and asked me to watch after her. She literally sprung it on me, is this okay? Jody and I can go watch a movie and let you be if you want,” Sam says, his words coming out fast as he radiates his own form of nervous energy.

Erik lets out a breath, smiling and nodding his head. “Any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine. But maybe a museum isn’t the most fun place, huh Jody?” he asks, peaking around Sam’s leg.

Jody looks up at him and squeaks before burying her face into Sam’s leg.

“Come on, Jody. You like museums, right?” Sam asks, grimacing.

Jody presses her head to the back of his leg, nodding against his calf. “Hey, Jody, let me loose for a second?” Sam asks softly. Jody slowly steps back from him, twisting her hands together as she eyes the ground. Sam kneels down and takes her hands in his, smiling all the while.

“Do you want me to carry you? Or hold my hand?” Jody nods quickly and opens her arms to him. Sam scoops her up in his arms and turns on his heels, giving Erik a grin.

Sam hoists her on his hip. “You want to meet my friend?” Jody looks up at Erik and blinks blankly as she looks him up and down.

“Okay,” she whispers softly. Sam gives Erik a quick pleading look then and Erik shifts on his feet, feeling more nervous now than he had before.

“I’m Erik, you’re Uncle Sam’s good friend from California,” he says, smiling as softly as he can manage.

“Your teeth are funny,” Jody states before turning back to look at Sam,” Uncle MiMi, I want to see the Africans.”

Sam chuckles. “To the Africans, we go then.”

 

 

 

Once inside, and next to the exhibit she wants to see, Jody promptly tells Sam to put her down, running forward to press her face against the nearest glass display when he does. Sam laughs as the two of them watch her mumble the words on the display cards to herself. Sam knows she doesn’t know half of what they say but watching her be so serious about it tickles him like nothing else.

He turns to Erik, who’s tracking Jody’s every move silently, and sighs. He’s probably messed this whole date thing up.

“Sorry, Sarah had an exam to make up,” Sam starts, ready to explain the whole thing. Erik looks over at him, his body still focused in Jody’s direction, before shrugging.

“Ain’t no thing, flyboy. She’s having fun.”

Sam nods, turning to watch Jody again. “She really likes this stuff, loves it.”

“Oh yeah?” Erik asks.

“Yeah, Sarah was a history major before she had Jody,” Sam says, shifting on his feet as he fingers Jody’s backpack of stuff.

“She changed her major?”

Sam shakes his head and sighs, mind going back to Sarah arriving on his doorstep in tears. “She couldn’t finish the semester. Not because she was pregnant, just some other stuff that came with it,” Sam says, voice tight as he thinks about Jody’s father and all the issues he’d caused.

They stand side by side silently for a moment before Sam releases a huff.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“Hey, no problem. I want to know everything about you. Your family too,” Erik says, eyes quickly going back to track Jody who’s further away from them than before. He slips his hand into Sam’s absently and pulls him after her.

“You are too smooth,” Sam says when they’ve stopped.

Erik grins. “I don’t know about smooth but I’m serious. If I had family I’d probably be like that too. Like you taking Jody to help Sarah out.”

“You don’t have any family?” Sam asks.

Erik purses his lips in distaste and rolls his shoulders back. “Nah,” he replies quickly, his whole body tightening as he pulls his hand out of Sam’s. “Not in the states. Not really anywhere.”

Sam watches him and frowns. Sometimes he forgets, after all the joking and teasing over the phone, that Erik has a much deeper side to him. It’s easy to write him off as a just clown, a guy who likes watching Dragon Ball Z and has an apartment full of figurines. He doesn’t do much wearing his feelings on his sleeve, something that comes so easily to Sam. But they’re different and that’s a part of why he likes Erik so much.

He’s smart and talented, funny as hell, but more than that… Sam can tell he’s a good person. Maybe the best he knows.

“Uncle Mimi!” Jody yells, running into his legs and jolting him out of his thoughts.

He looks down at her grinning face and smiles. “What’s up Jodybean?”

“No, ‘Jodybean’ that’s for private,” she grumbles before tugging on his leg. “Mr. Erik was showing me something and I want you to see it!” She pulls him forward and he smiles, he hadn’t even noticed Erik walking off after her, but he supposes maybe the other man needed a moment after the tenseness.

“Mr. Erik!”

Erik turns around and smiles as Jody rushes into his legs, he looks up at Sam and winks as Jody bounces up and down.

“Tell uncle Mimi about the artifact,” Jody demands, tugging on Erik’s hand and pointing to the display case before them.

Erik chuckles and nods, gesturing for Sam to pay attention. “Alright, bet. So, this piece, the brass woman with the pestle is from the Fon people in Benin is pretty cool because the Fon people belonged to the Dahomey Kingdom and they were known for having an all-female corps of soldiers,” Erik explains, Jody hopping up and down at his side as he does.

“See that, Uncle Mimi! All female! I’m a female!” Jody shouted, excited as she tries to press her face against the glass. Sam pulls her back and gives her a small but reproachful smile. Jody pouts for a moment before hopping back out of his grasp to ogle the figure.

Sam turns to Erik and smiles. “That’s really cool. You study history?”

Erik shrugs. “Ours, yeah. I’m full of useless knowledge,” he grunts, suddenly embarrassed. Sam bumps his shoulder against Erik’s and gives him another smile, this one warmer than the last.

“I don’t think it’s useless. And you definitely made Jody’s day with that bit of information. Mind showing off a bit more for us?” he asks, taking Erik’s hand in his, stroking his thumb across his palm pleasantly. Erik coughs and nods, looking at their joined hands.

“Yeah, I can um… I can do that.”

 

 

 

Sam smiles as he holds a tuckered-out Jody on his hip, her face tucked into his neck as she breaths in and out softly. The two of them laugh as she mutters softly every few minutes. After the museum, they’d gone to get Jody McDonald’s and let her run through Central Park until she conked out.

“Sarah will appreciate this,” Sam murmurs as they walk slowly towards his sister’s apartment building.

“Oh yeah?” Erik asks his eyes on Sam and Jody.

“Jody is notoriously difficult to get to sleep, but once she is she’s down until 8 in the morning no matter what,” Sam explains. Erik nods as they cross the street, on the stoop of the building just past the corner a woman around his age sits, reading a worn copy of “Black Girl in Paris” by Shay Youngblood.

He eyes the cover and then notices the small similarities between her and Sam and then her and Jody. This must be Sarah.

She puts the book down beside her as they approach, her eyes immediately going to him, taking stock of him as she looks him over. She purses her lips after a moment and looks away, smiling wide as Sam stops before her. She stands and takes a sleeping Jody from his arm before kissing him lightly on the cheek in thanks.

“You coming up when you’re done?” she asks, not turning to face Erik. He raises his brows but stays silent as they talk.

“Uh, yeah. This is Erik by the way. The one I told you about,” Sam says quickly, gesturing to him. Sarah cuts her eyes to him quickly before shrugging.

“I ought to get inside. Bring my book up when you do,” she says quickly before stepping away from them and up the stairs. Sam watches her make her way inside with a frown, rolling his eyes once she’s finally out of sight.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, plopping down onto the steps of the building.

Erik sits beside him. “She doesn’t like me already, huh? Wouldn’t be the first,” he teases.

Sam huffs and sighs, leaning against Erik’s shoulder after a moment. “It’s not that, not really. She thinks I need to take a break from dating. After Riley.”

Erik nods in understanding, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulder as they watch the evening in silence. The sky bleeds hot colors as the sun begins to set, melting slowly into blue and then the soft purple of the night.

“That’s pretty,” he says when the whole sky has turned over.

Sam nods. “Best in the whole world.”

Erik laughs. “Maybe second best.”

Sam turns to look up at him and raises a defiant eyebrow. “And where is the sunset better? California?”

Erik shakes his head, sitting up straighter. “Where my dad is from. He always talked about it.”

“You ever been?” Sam asks, curiously. Erik shakes his head and leans back, a sharp smile pulling at his lips as he does.

“Not yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, want to let folks know there probably won't be a chapter up next week. Kudos and comments like I deserve, please. Yall know how I feel about them mistakes :)


	4. Painfully Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And it became painfully clear that we  
> We would never see those days again  
> But I guess forever, doesn't last too long forever" - Forever Dont Last by Jazmine Sullivan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is quick :P

Sam closes his eyes, water droplets falling on his face as the fight goes on in front of him. His chest is tight. It feels like someone’s inside of him, holding tight his heart and pressing his lungs against his rib cage. His head is swimming, a rush of thoughts all swarming like locusts behind his eyes, and he wants suddenly to drop down into the falls and let the waters below guide him away from this.

Next to him he can feel W’Kabi, stone faced just as he was when Sam landed late the night before. He remembers his people bowing low before him and quietly slipping him into the hut they had Erik in. He can’t remember what he thought this was all about last night, just that they held one another nearly the whole night before they pulled Erik away from him and they parted with nothing but promises between them.

And now, here he is, dressed in a Beyoncé t-shirt and jeans, feeling and looking just as much outsider he was. He opens his eyes and nearly shouts when he sees Erik standing over his cousin.

W’Kabi reaches back and stops him before he can step forward, before he can stop this from going all the way south.

“We cannot interfere,” he whispers, voice like stone just like his eyes. Sam swallows under his gaze, feeling his skin crawl under it.

Something is decidedly off with him, but there’s no way he’s going to let Erik kill his cousin.

It’s in that moment that the man Zuri steps forward, keeping Erik from the killing blow and for a brief moment Sam hopes maybe that will stop this.

“I’ll take you out too, old man!” Erik shouts, his anger lifting like a deadly miasma and filling the falls with an acute sense of dread.

“No,” Sam whispers under his breath, wishing instantly for his wings so that he can just scoop Erik out of here. He steps forward, despite W’Kabi’s warning and glares when the man grabs ahold of his arm, his grip tight as steel.

“We cannot interfere,” he repeats. And now Sam can see it, the hidden glee sitting just below the surface. He’s enjoying this.

“Fuck that,” Sam grumbles, turning away from him and looking to the queen and princess. Erik’s cousins, begging now for T’Challa to stand, to fight back.

“Erik!” he screams, the fist around his heart trying to reach up and catch his voice as it comes. In the water Erik pauses briefly and the sound drowns out slowly, everyone looking to him as he tries to fight back against W’Kabi’s tight hold. He needs to get into that fucking water.

“Brother!” Shuri shouts, her face drenched with tears as she shakes in her mother’s arms.

“Erik please!” Sam yells. He’s already won, he’s gotten what he wanted, what more does he need to do? To prove?

Instead of turning to him Erik hoists T’Challa into his arms and heads to the edge of the falls, Shuri screaming in earnest now as she watches on with horror. The fist in Sam’s chest pulls tighter, the weight on his lungs doubling as Erik shouts and throws T’challa over the edge.

Sam’s head swims as he blinks rapidly, standing stone still like W’Kabi now. Though now the other man is smiling and lets go of his arm. Sam doesn’t move, not even as Erik turns to face him specifically. He’s not… this isn’t happening.

The Queen and Princess cry out in anguish and Sam pulls himself from W’Kabi’s side. The Doras present watch him, their own stone facades broken in half as Erik turns to address the crowd. He steps as quickly as he can, trying to reach them, Erik’s family, and just explain.

Make this better.

But how can he when the water below foams red with Zuri’s blood? When T’Challa’s body is _down there_.

“Yeah, y’all hear a nigga now, huh?” Erik grins, the small cut in his cheek still oozing blood, his hair, the same that Sam had re-twisted for him just days before is wild, sticking up at all angles. His deep brown eyes, eyes that Sam loves so much, has always been able to trust, are deeper and darker than ever. Almost unrecognizable.

Before him, grandstanding before the crowd of elders and the like, is someone else. Someone foreign and monstrous that he doesn’t know.

This can’t be _his_ Erik. He can’t… won’t believe that. His Erik would never. Not even when they planned this, when they’d decided that going to Wakanda had to happen, they’d never talked about this.

“Take him somewhere comfortable,” Erik says to W’Kabi, suddenly closer than before. He’s right in front of Sam, still grinning like he hadn’t just killed his own flesh and blood. W’Kabi nods, grip still tight on Sam’s arm as he begins to lead him away.

“No,” he murmurs suddenly, all the energy drained out of him rising back up. “No! Let me go! Get the fuck off me!” he shouts, trying to turn back, to fix this. As he jerks himself free his eyes connect with Nakia’s as she holds an even more distressed Shuri. Her glare is heavy, pushing the weight of all that had just transpired on to him. It’s all so much, so heavy, that he collapses right back into W’Kabi’s arms, shaking.

“No,” he whispers brokenly, face breaking into tears of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> Review and give me some kudos, cause it's what I and this ship deserve. Any glaring mistakes can be taken up with my lawyer.


End file.
